Not the Norm
by Semi-Retired Writer
Summary: SMHC. Sickdays 3.0 day 1 prompt fill. Peter is sometimes just your average teenager who makes bad decisions such as, say, overestimating his tolerance for caffeine. Warning for mild emeto.


**Not the Norm**

Peter had never been one of those constantly tired teenagers. He found it easy to stick to a relatively constant schedule before: wake up for school at six, get home or get to Ned's house by half past three, finish homework within an hour on a typical day, and still have a good few hours to have fun before bedtime at half past nine. That was before, though. Now? Now Peter could get through the week with little effort most of the time, but certainly not every week. Some days, he struggled to get enough sleep to even focus on learning in any of his classes, let alone putting in the extra work to really _get_ his homework while he was distracted by the need to patrol the streets. It wasn't long before he turned to caffeine to get through some days.

He'd never been a coffee drinker, hated the taste even. He'd thought the desperate need for energy could bring him to push past the distaste now that he had more on his plate, but he found himself still shuddering and cringing through the taste every time he tried. _Acquired taste, my ass._ Peter was convinced everyone who managed to gulp down this swill had managed to permanently remove their taste buds somehow. It wasn't long before he was moving on to alternatives.

Soda was good for a while. It did its job to wake him up before school without having the urge to snap at everyone who crossed his path. He'd never really been into it before, and he was pleased with the slight energy boost that lasted through the school day. Maybe that was just the power of positive thinking, maybe he was just sensitive. He didn't much care either way.

Eventually, soda wasn't doing much for him at all. Energy drinks were the logical next choice. He was afraid of his first one, but feeling the sheer energy as he sipped at it soothed all his worries about their supposed danger.

By the time he was adding energy shots and patches, he couldn't even remember a time when a simple soda had gotten him through first period alone. Logically, he knew he hadn't always needed this much of a hit, but for the life of him, Peter couldn't imagine getting through a day without drinks or shots and a caffeine patch or two strategically placed throughout the day. Sure, it seemed like a lot, but he was okay and he had his metabolism that was probably making him burn through the caffeine faster—explaining perfectly why he needed more and more—so it shouldn't be a problem to have so much. He was perfectly fine. Yeah, he just needed his daily dose if he wanted to stay fully functional, but most adults did the same thing with coffee. This was _normal_.

The first time his habit truly backfired on him was on a Thursday. He'd gotten through the school day, his academic decathlon meeting, his homework, and patrol easily enough but it was pushing on eleven at night as he stared up at the ceiling in his dark room, still wide awake. Ah, good. Just how he wanted to start his Friday: sleep-deprived.

Eventually, he couldn't bear to just lay in bed anymore so he launched himself out and tiptoed to the light switch. May would be asleep by now and wouldn't notice the light, but she was a light sleeper and would come running to check on him—and lecture him—if he made too much noise. He stood quietly next to his door a full minute to be sure he couldn't hear her waking.

Well, if he was up anyway, he might as well get some studying in for the physics test coming up. He slipped to his desk and pulled out his textbook to reread what he'd highlighted from the assigned reading.

When he caught himself rereading the same line over and over in the second assigned chapter, he sighed softly and gave up that option. Maybe some of the practice problems would be easier to focus on. He managed a few pages worth of calculations before he was almost bored to tears. He gently snapped the book closed and put it away.

He turned his phone on long enough to find that no one had posted anything interesting on Snapchat or Instagram, and no one was online on Facebook this late.

Oh, hey! He never had much time to have some good mindless fun these days. Why not now? He launched one of his newer games that he'd promised to play again with Ned at some point. He'd still only played a few matches and was absolutely horrid at the game. If he practiced more, he wouldn't keep getting their team killed in duo rounds, and Ned would have more fun.

He started out strong by making it to the last twenty survivors in his first round, but once he found a place to camp in the next round, he found himself getting way too anxious about the game and had to quit before he was even killed.

He tried his bed again, closing his eyes tight and doing everything he could to will himself into unconsciousness. The more time he spent decidedly conscious, the more frustrated he was with himself. Tiredness pulled at his body, but it was like his mind was actively fighting it no matter what he did. He sighed as he tossed and turned, losing track of time but never falling asleep.

When he caught glimpses of the lightening landscape through his window and found that five o'clock had rolled around, he gave up completely on getting any sleep and decided to use the time to cook breakfast for once. Usually, he tried to sleep in until he had to grab a quick breakfast and run to school, but he thought it would be nice to surprise Aunt May and start the day off vaguely healthy for once. Still feeling far too tired but not at all sleepy, he popped open the first Monster of the day as he set out frying bacon, peppers, and eggs for breakfast wraps.

The wraps—only slightly burnt—were ready just before six, so he set them on the counter to cool to edible levels while he took a quick shower since he had more than enough time. He wrapped himself in a towel and was on his way to his room when he heard a doorknob clicking out of place.

"Hey Aunt May!" he greeted her cheerfully, careful to hide how tired he felt. "I made breakfast! It's on the counter if you want some."

"…It's six in the morning. You don't wake up before daylight," May pointed out with a wide smile. "Who are you, and where is my nephew?"

"Just felt like starting out healthy today!" he lied. His aunt would worry if she knew he hadn't slept last night. No need to worry her over nothing first thing in the morning. He still felt a little guilty when she shrugged it off and fell for his lie. He jogged toward his room so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye.

He didn't really feel like coordinating an outfit, so he just grabbed the first clean things he saw and started to pull them on. He tossed aside the pants after realizing the dark yellow color didn't really match the rest of the outfit. Then he wondered why he even had dark yellow jeans. What could those possibly match? He grabbed some khakis instead and tugged them on. Luckily, haphazardly picking an outfit served as enough of a distraction to stop him from feeling so guilty.

It was easy enough to walk back out to the kitchen to grab three of the wraps for himself, dipping around May as she finished starting the coffee maker. He poured plenty of salsa on his plate to drown out the burnt bacon taste and moved out of the kitchen to make more room for his aunt. He turned on the TV and flipped to the first thing that caught his eye before digging in.

Eating didn't take long. It was still only half past six when he finished, so he took the chance to hang out with May. They were close, but being so pressed for time meant he couldn't often find an opportunity to sit down with his aunt and see what was up in her life or to tell her much about his. He was surprised to find out May was in the running for a promotion at work that would hopefully give them some more wiggle room in the budget. They'd caught up a fair bit by the time he noticed it was seven and needed to finish getting ready for school.

He ducked into his room, shutting the door behind him. May didn't need to see him rooting through his caffeine stash in the back of the closet. He was starting to really feel the energy crash and got the sense he'd need a lot more help than usual to get through the day. He pulled three cans out of one already open box and quietly tore into a full box of Monster, dumping them into his backpack. He reached further back in the closet for a packet of caffeine tablets, a handful of energy patches, and five energy shots that he tossed on top of the Monster. He considered the haul and after a moment's deliberation, pulled out one of the energy shots and tossed the liquid into his mouth in one go. All together in his bag like this, it looked like a lot… but he wanted to be safe. It wasn't like he'd use it all. He just wanted more than enough to be on the safe side. He noticed his closet stock looked low after what he'd just taken out and sighed, knowing his allowance this week would have to go to resupplying.

He pulled the now heavy backpack over one shoulder and said a quick goodbye as he stepped out of the apartment. He waiting to turn around the first corner to get out of his aunt's sight before he reached into the backpack, ripped a package open with his teeth, and slapped two of the energy patches on. They always took a little time to kick in, but it would help to have a buzz already going when he arrived at school.

He ran to the train station, hoping the light exercise would help him to wake up. It worked for the run, but the feeling died out after he had to stand still on the train. At least he could feel the patches kicking in now. He swallowed an energy tablet dry—wow, he wished he'd brought a water bottle—for good measure.

The train reached his station and he decided to finish off by running the remaining distance to the school today. It served two goals: work off some of the restless energy he'd gotten during the train ride and startle his body into more wakefulness. A teacher he didn't recognize yelled at him when he kept running once he was inside the school. He begrudgingly slowed down his pace the rest of the way to homeroom. The restlessness was still there, but he felt more awake and called it a success.

He was early today, but Ned was already at his desk doing some last-minute homework. He wanted a chance to relax before classes started and Ned could clearly use the quiet time, so Peter laid his head on his desk and tried once more to nap.

Ten restless minutes later, he heard the shuffling of papers behind him and lifted his head to find Ned had finished whatever he was working on. He hadn't achieved much more than keeping his eyes shut for the full ten minutes, but whatever. He could get through today. He could feel a headache building directly behind his left eye from what he assumed was not getting enough sleep. Rubbing at his forehead eased the pain a little.

"You okay, dude?" Ned looked more concerned than Peter had ever seen him, which was saying a lot considering Ned had had the misfortune of having to see him on separate occasions with a bad concussion and with a very obviously broken leg. He felt bad for worrying his friend at all, but especially when it was something avoidable like not even being able to get enough sleep. God, he felt pathetic sometimes. Mr. Stark probably never had to deal with this, yet here _he_ was worrying people over a little tiredness.

"Just didn't sleep much last night," he fudged the truth a little for Ned too. "I was too keyed up to go to bed on time." _Or at all_. Ned looked less worried now. He didn't know whether that felt more like a success in lying or a failure in being a good friend.

"Least it's Friday. You've got time to nap before you-know-what today." Ned had gotten enough practice to reach a fluent level of vagueness about Peter's extracurricular activities in the few months since he'd found out. "By the way, can I check my answers with yours for trig?" Peter chuckled and turned to his backpack, finding his leg bouncing without him even noticing. _Huh, weird._ He stopped and pushed the thought aside while he fished for the worksheet they'd been assigned.

"Holy _shit_ , Peter!" Ned almost yelled—instead he caught himself and lowered his voice to a strange whisper-yell hybrid—when he looked inside the backpack. " _Please_ tell me you aren't using all of those today!"

"Nah," Peter said after an initial jolt, keeping his gaze focused in the depths of his backpack instead of looking even slightly in the direction of his friend. "I just didn't want to forget to grab enough for next week, so I grabbed a ton this morning." It wasn't… exactly the truth, but he wasn't planning to drink all of them today so it was okay. No need to worry his friends.

Ned and MJ knew all about his three-a-day habit and were welcome to assume that was what he was doing today. They'd just be assuming _incorrectly_ this time. He found the sheet and zipped his backpack up again with a shiver before anyone else had a chance to glance inside and out him to a teacher. Caffeine wasn't exactly an approved substance inside the school thanks to an ongoing health campaign.

Ned was distracted with the nearly identical worksheets, so only Peter waved to MJ when he saw her walking up to the classroom door. His eyes zeroed in quickly on the Starbucks cup in her hand, some kind of dark venti Frappuccino, still mostly full. His mouth actually watered. He swallowed hard.

"Oh no, you don't," she warned when she was close enough. "I bought this for _me_."

"But Michelllllle!" He dragged her name out into a long whine. "I'm tiiiiiiiired!"

"Ugh, the stupid puppy eyes," she complained, but she passed him the Frappuccino with a joking glare anyway. "I hate that you're cuter than me."

"But I _love_ you so much right now." Without further ado, he downed half the drink while ignoring his friends' pleas to slow down and a couple judging looks from some other classmates. He finally pulled his mouth off the straw with a pop when his homeroom teacher called for quiet while the morning announcements droned on. He slipped his backpack onto his desk to mostly hide the contraband cup from view. It was empty by the time they were released for first period and he subtly dropped the evidence in the trash bin on his way out.

His first class was the opposite direction from Ned's and MJ's. After they turned away, he took the opportunity to tug out one of the Monsters and chugged it amidst the chaos of the class change. He reveled in the feeling of his caffeine high and dumped the empty can before he reached his classroom.

Peter enjoyed roughly fifteen minutes of pure energetic focus—minus the lingering headache pulsing softly behind his left eye, but he could deal with that—before he was overwhelmed by the feeling of his own heartbeat pounding against his chest. Ugh, that didn't feel great. He didn't know if it was from chugging Monster or not sleeping, and he didn't really care which. It was distracting as hell. He wasn't catching any of the notes he should be because he was focusing most of his energy on not being noticeably hyper. He'd caught his leg bouncing without his permission twice since class had started, and it wasn't as easy as he'd thought to stop himself.

He knew he'd regret it later, but he didn't learn anything by the end of his first period. It was an active effort not to finger-tap rhythms across the desk by the end, he was desperately thirsty, he could feel his spider sense every so often for no discernible reason, and he was almost afraid he couldn't wait long enough to make it to a bathroom during the next class change. He was used to desperately needing the bathroom at school—it's hard not to be when you're accustomed to multiple energy drinks across a day's span—but he hadn't expected the chugging to make the effects kick in this much faster. He distractedly tried to shove his notebook into his backpack as class came to an end but his hands were shaking too much that he had to give it a second, more focused try before he could make a run for it at the end of class.

After his near disaster, he sighed in relief and blushed when he heard an answering laugh in the bathroom. Oops, he hadn't meant to be so vocal, hadn't even noticed as he did it. He scurried out and stopped at the water fountain, but that wasn't enough to completely satisfy his thirst. The caffeine high was fading anyway, so he pulled another can out and cracked it open, drinking more slowly and savoring the taste this time.

He'd given himself one non-academic elective class this semester: art with the laxest man he'd ever met. Most of the school's rules were unofficially void within his four walls, so he didn't blink an eye at Peter's contraband every day. Ned had scoffed at the idea of an art class when they'd been trying to schedule classes together, but it had turned out MJ had an artistic side and was in the class too. They hadn't sat anywhere near each other at the beginning of the semester, but after they became something like friends, he moved to her table and they usually spent the period alternating between jokingly and seriously critiquing each other's work. Today, she eyed the can warily before looking back up at him trying and failing to hide his shaking.

"Do you really need that? It's been like an hour since the Starbucks."

"I'm good—high tolerance, remember?" He didn't like lying to MJ, but he couldn't afford to reveal his identity to someone he hadn't even been friends with until recently. When they knew each other _much_ better, he'd maybe be willing to tell her about his healing factor and crazy metabolism. She looked skeptical but went back to shaping her somewhat suggestive sculpture. He didn't make much progress on his own sculpture, shaking too much to give it a clear form.

When the bell rang, he paid extra attention to MJ to make sure she was completely out of sight before he popped out one of the energy shots. He was still too tired, but he had a tiny bottle of liquid focus in his hand. He felt a little like puking, but he could get through today. Two classes down, four to go.

The art class was the only thing that gave him the drive to get through his third period physics class most days. It wasn't that he didn't care about physics; he did. In fact, that was the issue. He liked physics so much that he'd spent years studying it in his free time. There was a reason he was the decathlon team's physics specialist. He knew everything about it already, or at least everything he'd have learned in a relatively low-level high school class.

Predictably, it was another boring day in physics. He'd long ago developed a posture that made it look like he was paying attention when he absolutely wasn't, and he made heavy use of it today. He quietly huffed every time his shaking knocked his chin out of his hand, which in turn further aggravated his churning stomach. At least he wasn't going to have trouble figuring out what he missed in this class.

The bell rang sooner than expected. He was pretty sure there was a chunk of time he couldn't account for in the middle of class. He wondered if he'd managed to fall asleep upright, but shrugged it off. His metabolism was high, but he was pretty sure even he couldn't fall asleep right after an extra-strength energy shot. He had his lunch break now. He could give himself a break so it would be easier to focus on his classes.

He gulped his way through another two back-to-back energy shots on his way to lunch, ignoring the acidic berry aftertaste that now seemed permanently stuck at the back of his mouth and down his throat. He could feel himself still shaking uncontrollably as he waited in the lunch line for his hot dog and fries. He tried to suppress the shivers and willed his heartbeat to quiet down as he approached MJ waiting at their lunch table. She didn't look up when he sat at the opposite end of the table as usual.

The ongoing nausea didn't leave him particularly hungry for lunch, but he knew he wouldn't get a chance to eat again until he reached Delmar's on the way home from school in three hours. He shoved the tasteless hot dog into his mouth without bothering to add any condiments. He was slowly stuffing himself with equally tasteless fries when Ned sat down across from him. Evidently, he was doing a passable job of hiding his exhaustion—and to his pleasure, the shivering had even stopped—because Ned jumped right into normal conversation.

Ned didn't even look concerned when he pulled out another energy drink near the end of lunch period, but MJ looked up from her book with a pointed glare at the sound of him popping the tab and a muttered, "Of _course_ , he's gonna overdo it," that he wasn't meant to hear. He frowned down at the drink for a moment, disappointed that MJ expected him to go too far. He'd thought they were close enough for her to understand he could handle this just fine like he always did, but apparently not.

He tried to shake it off and turned back to Ned as he launched another Star Wars debate. It was harder to follow along with his points today, but hey, he was doing good for a guy who got literally no sleep last night. He guzzled what little was left of his drink when the next bell cut off their discussion. He and Ned walked together toward their next class, but Peter branched off to stop by the bathroom, partly to get away from Ned's prying gaze as he peeled off this morning's patches and slapped on two more in their place.

When he got to their classroom, his headache had spread so it felt like it was at the sides of his forehead. Ned was already settled in at their usual spot at the front of the room so he dropped in next to him. He hoped he'd be able to focus on his afternoon classes better than this morning's. He'd definitely learned his lesson. Next time he couldn't sleep, he was definitely going straight for Aunt May's supply of sleeping pills instead of suffering through a restless night.

When the bell rang, his eyes jolted open—when had they closed?—and he realized he had a grand total of four lines of notes. He was going to have to rely on Ned's notes later tonight for sure. Ugh. At least he was down to two classes left. He'd planned to patrol a bit before napping, but he was definitely going to go straight home. He didn't even want to stop by Delmar's. He realized his spider sense had come back sometime while he was zoned out and worried. If he was feeling it all the time for no reason, would it even help him during patrol tonight?

Peter knew he wouldn't get a chance to refuel between his last two classes, so he decided to take a risk and pull out two more of the energy drinks and chug them both now instead. Part of him said, "maybe this isn't the _best_ idea, Peter," but a larger part said, "Holy _fuck_ , I'm so tired I might just drop dead." He listened to the louder voice, of course.He was mid-way through the second one when he heard a voice that was unmistakably Ned's protesting. He cursed himself for not paying enough attention before he lowered his drink, turned tail, and dashed to his own class. He wasn't dealing with this now. Maybe he could lie low and Ned would forget over the weekend.

He couldn't remember most of his last two classes to save his life. He had _no_ idea what his teachers had covered, too focused on hiding the nervous energy coursing through him. All he knew for sure was that he was out of his seat the instant the final bell rang, running to and leaping the fence as fast as he could. He just wanted to burn off some of this energy as soon as possible. His phone buzzed and stopped him before he had a chance to set off for an alley where he could change into the suit. He bounced in place and whined as he pulled the phone out of his pocket.

 _Confirm the plan, kid. I'm at the front entrance and YOU'RE not._ He was confused about why Happy would be here and immediately changed course to run to the front of the school instead. It took longer now that other students were leaving the school and he couldn't risk hopping back over the fence.

Sure enough, Happy was parked in the designated pick-up area, rolling his window down when he saw Peter, and suddenly he remembered the weekend trip.

"Shit," Peter said upon realizing he'd forgotten all about the trip and hadn't packed a thing.

"Language!" Happy exclaimed before he could go on. He didn't remember when it had caught on, but all the remaining Avengers and the support team had a whole _thing_ about stopping Peter from swearing, like he was ten instead of fifteen. He didn't realize he was causing an awkward pause until they were a few seconds into an unintentional silent staring contest.

"…Sorry." He wasn't really sorry about the swearing, but he didn't want to piss Happy off right before a ninety-minute drive with him. "I'm so sorry! I completely forgot about this weekend and didn't pack anything. I just need to stop home for like five minutes, I swear! Please don't cancel this—"

"Look, kid." Happy cut his nervous chatter off with a raised hand and the facial expression of I-don't-get-paid-enough-for-this. "Tony has everything you need at the compound as long as you brought the suit. He has a whole damn bedroom just for you, so stop freaking out and just get in already. I've been waiting long enough."

"Oh, o-oops." At Happy's urging, he slid into the backseat, cringed at his own sudden stutter, and dumped his backpack unceremoniously on the floor. Happy wasted no time in pulling away from the school.

He could feel himself flagging yet again and waited with bated breath for Happy to get distracted with traffic. He thanked past Peter for thinking to pack extra today without even remembering this trip. Knowing Mr. Stark, he'd have to be awake and focused for at least a few hours for whatever they were doing together today. He slowly slid one hand into his bag and softly patted around for an energy shot and his last packet of caffeine patches. He struggled through ripping open the patch wrapper one-handed without making too much noise. Finally convinced Happy was distracted enough by the road, he fished the patches out and maneuvered the adhesives onto his lower back. Nervously, double-checking that the man wasn't looking, he twisted open the energy shot and slowly raised his arm to down it, one eye always on the driver.

Happy looked suspicious but didn't take his gaze off the road during his feat. He slipped the trash back into his backpack and tried to look innocent enough to not draw attention.

Soon they were merging onto the highway with nothing to distract the man except long, boring stretches of road that all looked the same. They made accidental eye contact a few times, making Peter feel his heart beat even harder each time, but he was pretty sure Happy didn't know what had gone on in his backseat. The nausea edged back with a vengeance. He tried to hide the panic from his face, but man, it would be horrifying to barf in Happy's car.

"You… okay, kid?" Happy asked. Peter was genuinely surprised. Happy had never cared much about him beyond what Mr. Stark asked him to do. He didn't know what had prompted it, though. He swallowed hard.

"Y-yeah?" It was punctuated by a long yawn that he hadn't really felt coming.

"You seem off," he expanded. "You're not talking my ear off. Shaky. Kinda pale. Just off."

"Oh." Not his most thought-out answer. "Uhh… just t-tired, I guess. I didn't get enough sleep l-last night. I'm good though." He held back a full-body shiver, and Happy seemed satisfied with his answer and went back to his regularly scheduled Not Caring.

Peter made it a third of the way through the trip before he caved and pulled out another can of Monster. It was perfectly normal for a tired teenager, right? And it wasn't like Happy or Mr. Stark would know about the others he'd had today. Happy glanced back at the snap of the can opening, but a simple, "energy drink" had him shrugging and mostly refocusing on his driving.

"Can kids drink those?" he eventually questioned. "I can't even get through one, way too much sugar and caffeine." It was Peter's turn to shrug.

"I don't know. I like 'em." He paused and snaked one arm around his stomach before finishing. "Aunt May d-doesn't mind as long as I pay for them m-myself."

It _may_ have been a lie of omission. May was perfectly fine with him buying energy drinks… if it was one every once in a while. She had no idea just how big the stash in his closet was, and she definitely didn't know about his habit of drinking two or three a day along with an energy patch or two. The shots and pills were usually reserved for his worst days because he knew his aunt would freak if she ever found out about them.

He was holding an empty can—and another full bladder—when Happy pulled up to the compound. He didn't waste any time in jumping out and rushing inside. He ran by Mr. Stark on his way to the bathroom, shouting a quick greeting as he went. When he came back for a proper conversation, he could see the man had written him off as "excited teenager" and just waited where he'd been.

Mr. Stark led him to his bedroom so he could ditch his backpack and they could get to work on his suit in the lab. He took a minute to grope around his backpack, finding the last energy drink and opening it before he pulled out the suit, rumpled from being piled under pounds of energy drinks all day. He took a sip of the drink to wet his way-too-dry mouth. A second swallow let him take the remaining caffeine tab while Mr. Stark wasn't looking. At least Mr. Stark didn't question the drink too. He didn't want any risk of him caring enough to mention it in front of Happy to compare notes. They went straight to the workshop from there.

He marveled at the room. He'd only been in the lab a few times before, and never for longer than it took to check on the issue at hand. This weekend, he'd get to spend most of his time in here. It was going to be _awesome_.

While he was stuck in awe, Tony grabbed him by the hand and started dragging him to an empty table with room to work side by side. He saw parts of the room starting to double and triple, but he shook himself and recovered in time to take over walking without help, and they set to work discussing the upgrades Tony wanted to add and going over the theory. Peter had the niggling feeling he'd had a short list of his own suggestions for the suit, but he couldn't remember any for the life of him. He shrugged and moved to join Tony as he started in on the real work.

Peter was having trouble concentrating on what they were doing, which was admittedly weird for him. He could still blame that on the lack of sleep, but if he was honest, it was his spider sense distracting him the most. The runner-up was the nausea that had never really abated during the car ride. He really wished his body would get its shit together. He'd been so excited about this, and he stood to learn so much, but not if he couldn't focus on what Mr. Stark was doing. He couldn't resist the urge to get up and walk around the room every few minutes, his body begging him to move. It didn't help that a couple times right after he'd finally managed to focus, he had to pee again. _God_ , that was getting annoying.

The third bathroom break in an hour reaffirmed Tony's belief that he'd managed to recruit an actual toddler to be a superhero, but he wrote it off as an off day after he took a second to consider the kid's usual merits. Everyone had an off day every so often. Apparently, Peter's included strangely excessive bathroom breaks. Maybe he was just overwhelmed by being in the Avengers' compound? He could just need a break to decompress.

The kid came back to the workstation soon enough, and they returned to silently upgrading the suit for a while without much disruption.

Peter was suddenly aware of a shift from vaguely ignorable nausea to full-blown "definitely gonna puke" and immediately darted for the bathroom.

Tony didn't even spare a glance up until he heard the first gag. Alarmed, he ran to the bathroom to comfort the suddenly sick kid he had on his hands. He was no parent, but he'd thought he'd at least gotten the hang of catching on when the kid was feeling off. Apparently not.

After tasting the Monster for a second, third, and fourth more disgusting time, Peter couldn't imagine ever being able to stomach it again and vowed to move on to Red Bull. With the loud commotion he was causing, he didn't even notice Tony arriving or suspiciously eyeing the half-can of Monster abandoned at the work table as he panted after the impromptu puke-fest.

"Parker, kid, buddy, pal, how many energy drinks have you had today?" Tony had a hand on his upper back. In equal amounts, he wanted to squeal in excitement that his idol was directly touching him or cringe away, overwhelmed by the extra sensation of pressure on him while his spider sense was still going crazy.

"Uhh…" Peter shivered and thought back through his day, trying to count up each energy drink he'd cracked open since this morning. He couldn't actually remember physically drinking all that many, but he knew he put two boxes worth in his backpack this morning that were all gone now. Something felt off about that, like he _should_ remember. Whatever, it didn't matter if he knew every little detail of his day. He knew he'd brought eight to school. "E-eight?"

Tony did _not_ look pleased.

" _Eight_?" he repeated in astonishment, concerned that the response had been more of a question than a confident answer. "FRIDAY, how much caffeine is in his system right now?"

"Approximately three grams, sir."

"That is _way_ more than eight—not that eight is okay in the fucking first place—and you thought this was a good idea, _why_?" Strike that, he looked straight up angry at him. He felt his spider sense return in full force in response. Geez. This was why he never told adults how much he drank. They were all too eager to lecture him over it like it was a big deal.

"I w-was _tired_ ," he stressed. "It's just c-caffeine, Mr. Stark. I needed to get through my classes and h-help out with the suit!" He'd been going for mild outrage, but he couldn't control his voice wavering and instead heard himself come off as weak and scared or maybe cold. It was annoying. He wasn't cold, and the shivering was getting just a little on his nerves.

"It's not _just_ caffeine, Peter!" Mr. Stark sounded more concerned than Peter thought he had a right to be. "That's way too much! Most people have major side effects after less than a _sixth_ of that! And kids react to even less!"

"But I'm different!" He was embarrassed that he was coming across like a whiny kid, but he couldn't seem to control his voice or his emotions all that well. "I _need_ th-that much with my metabolism! How else am I supposed to stay awake all d-day?" He couldn't resist following up with a frustrated cross between a grunt and a whine. It really didn't serve a purpose. It just felt wrong not to be doing anything, and making sound made the wrongness stop for a little bit.

Tony was a little taken aback at just how much he was acting like a child. He was used to a new hero that didn't know when to shut up and could use a little experience, but this was a new low in Peter's maturity. He often forgot that Peter was only fifteen, but he was pretty sure even a teenager didn't usually act this immature.

"If your metabolism's handling it so well, then why can't you go two seconds without bouncing around, huh? Why are you shaking? Why haven't you been concentrating all afternoon? Why are you hugging my toilet instead of helping with your suit?" He felt a little bad for kicking the kid while he was down, but this was just ridiculous.

Peter had no response to that except to interrupt with a retch before hanging his head to avoid locking eyes with Tony.

"You can overdose on drugs just like anyone else, kid—and _yes_ , caffeine is a drug just as dangerous as any other in the wrong dose. Just because it might take a higher dose doesn't mean you're immune to side effects!" This kid was going to be the death of him one day. "I thought you could be better than me, but you've had long enough to deal with this yourself. You can come back to the lab once you're not doped up on stimulants and acting like a brat."

"Ugh, n-no one says 'doped up' anymore, Mr. St-Stark." Peter was clearly feeling more daring than the usual Peter who would obey Tony without any fight. Tony fixed him with another glare. He at least had the decency to look guilty for the comment after that.

"You need to eat and hydrate with something that's _not_ designed to get you high if you want to feel better anytime soon."

"I'm really not h-hungry, Mr. Stark." It was an understatement if ever there was one. He couldn't imagine food doing anything but sending him right back to puking his guts out, and he wasn't fond of the idea of going through that again. Even with his angry expression still in place, Tony was gently pulling him up by the arm, leaning him into his body, and guiding him to the elevator despite his protests. He sighed in frustration at being ignored.

" _That_ would be because you filled up on energy drinks all day." Tony's sass levels were off the charts today, and Peter was in no state to appreciate it. "FRIDAY, living quarters. If you don't choose something, I'm picking for you."

"I am aggressively _un_ hungry," Peter whined, still wavering through the words. "Don't fuc—freaking m-make me eat!" Tony narrowed his eyes at the slip-up but let it go.

"Pasta it is!" he proclaimed in a false cheerful tone amidst Peter's groans. He didn't hold much hope that Peter would be able to fit in a nap while the pasta cooked when he considered the kid's agitation and noticed his inability to stand still even now. He wondered if he even noticed he was fidgeting with his sleeves and kicking one of his legs back and forth.

He guided Peter to a couch before shoving him down as gently as he could and motioning for him to wait where he was. As soon as he turned away toward the kitchen, he heard the slight rustle of fabric as Peter started bouncing his legs.

The kitchen was separated from the living room with an island, so at least he could periodically watch Peter without having to leave the room. He dumped a box of penne into a large pot and left it under the tap to fill with water while he ran a glass of water to Peter. He moved the pot to the stove and set a timer after consulting the side of the box. He debated the merits of making the sauce from scratch, but speed was the priority now. He popped the lid off a jar of premade sauce instead and portioned it between two bowls for them, Peter's much larger to account for his much higher metabolism. Hopefully, that metabolism made caffeine's half-life shorter too, but he wasn't holding out much hope.

He remembered to glance back into the living room and found Peter doing rapid pushups in the floor. He hadn't exactly stayed still as ordered, but Tony decided the exertion might help and left him to it. He sent a quick text to Happy, sending him on a snack run. Maybe the kid would be more willing to eat later if he had junk food to choose from. He wasn't about to load the kid up on sugar after how much he'd already forced his body to process today—in fact, he might just ban him from sugar all weekend—but if chips were what it took to make him eat, he could live with that.

The timer shrieked before he could do anything else, and he rushed to turn it off and drain the penne. It was quick work from there to portion out his and Peter's food and carry it to the living room.

They both ate quietly for a while, Tony realizing just how hungry he was once he had food in his hands. Peter was hesitant at first, but his appetite seemed to come back after the first third of the bowl, and soon enough he was gulping down the pasta faster than Tony thought possible.

Tony almost smiled when he saw the kid leaned back against the couch with his eyes closed, bowl barely gripped in his hands. Peter's eyes shot open when Tony tugged the empty bowl from his hands to drop into the sink alongside his own.

"Okay, you need to get some sleep."

"Mmmm…" Peter hummed, fatigue obviously in his voice. "Not sleepy. Can't… Spider sense."

He needed a distraction, something to trick the kid into calming down a little more without thinking about it and psyching himself up. It didn't take a genius to see that the biggest distraction for Peter was just letting him talk.

"Okay. So, how's school been?"

Predictably, he launched into an animated, mostly one-sided discussion of all of his classes, his every minor interaction with his acquaintances, his worries about his loved ones, and his dating prospects. It took very little prompting to keep the kid going on and on, but Tony could hear the wavering in his voice slowly edging away, the uncontrollable shivers long gone.

When the chatter was finally dying down despite his best efforts to urge the boy on, he gently pushed the boy sideways and helped him get more comfortable on the couch. He'd have to move him to his bedroom later, but this worked for the time being. He pulled a throw blanket from the back of the couch and carefully covered him as much as he could. He heard a soft snore before he finished arranging the blanket and smiled down at his protégé.


End file.
